By
Daris Howard
copyright 2006
all rights reserved
Any commercial use of this article without written permission is strictly prohibited.
We have Tinkertoys in our cupboard. I'm not talking about the toy cupboard. I mean that I will sometimes pull out a bowl to put cereal in and, half asleep, pour in cornflakes and milk. I take a bite and receive 2000% of the unrecommended lifetime supply of fiber and plastic polymers. I really hate Tinkertoys in my cupboard.
"Who put the Tinkertoy in my cereal bowl?!" I holler, as I search for my missing tooth.
I really didn't need to ask that. I knew who it was. It was a 22-month-old gremlin with blond hair, blue eyes, and piggy tails. She has taken a real liking to Tinkertoys.
There are Tinkertoys in the bowls, Tinkertoys in my bed, Tinkertoys in my shoes, and Tinkertoys stuffed in the floppy drive of my computer. If I get up in the middle of the night for a drink of water, I am sure to step on a Tinkertoy and roll bruisedy, scrapity, crashity down the stairs. The last time that happened, my hollering could have put any decibel meter off the scale. I woke the whole house and most of the neighbors within a half mile radius. I swore I was going to take every Tinkertoy to the second-hand store.
But that was then. My little, blond, blue-eyed gremlin has recently been sick. We spent three days in the hospital, with her temperature soaring to 106 degrees. She slept in my arms as I comforted her, keeping her from pulling on the IV that was giving her the life-saving antibiotic. I put cool cloths on her forehead, not daring to sleep for fear she would leave me for good. I stroked her blond hair, wishing I could draw the sickness from her and take it upon myself.
At times exhaustion overcame me and I started to drift off to sleep, only to wake with a start, panicking at my lapse as I checked on her again. The three days took their toll on me as I sat in the chair, praying, with her in my arms.
Finally, her fever broke and she was able to come home. Unshaven and unkempt, I carried her from our car and tucked her gently into her bed. She still didn't want to do much and just lay there, quietly holding "bankie" close. I would come home from work each day and open the cupboard, hoping to see a Tinkertoy in my cereal bowl, but it wasn't there - none in my bed, none in my shoes, none in my computer.
Then, one day, coming in from work tired and hungry, I did pull out a plate and, to my great joy, I found a dirty, chipped, unsanitary Tinkertoy. I turned around and my little blond gremlin poked her head around the corner. Though she was still pale, her eyes had a sparkle I hadn't seen for a long time.
I held up her Tinkertoy. She came to me and hugged my knees. She then took her Tinkertoy and toddled off, humming.
You know what? I really do like Tinkertoys in my cupboard.
